


You Don't Sleep

by bonoffee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 15:11:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonoffee/pseuds/bonoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite it all, Remus sighs and stops in the doorframe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Sleep

The sky creaks and groans under the weight of thunder as the rain falls, splashing and running in rivers by the side of the road. An elderly wizard in a sombre green robe rushes past, waving his wand and muttering, his feet sloshing through puddles. Remus watches, his hands curled around a mug of freshly brewed tea, the steam rising gently and warming his face. The glass is streaked with raindrops, each one wending its own way down to the bottom, where it lies among the others. One hand on the pane leaves a mark, a palm-print in the condensation that fades within seconds.

"Got any more tea?" accompanied by a shuffling sound lets Remus know he has company. He shakes his head as he watches an anxious-looking mother pulling her little girl along the sopping street.

"No. Have this." Turning, he holds out the mug.

Sirius doesn't move except to pull the blanket more snugly around himself. "It's yours. You like your tea. Don't you?" He raises his eyes, and Remus knows he wants contact, wants confirmation that these tentative memories are correct. But it isn't that easy, it _can't_ be that easy.

"You need it. It'll do you good." The tone, the _teacher_ tone (because he'd been a teacher, hadn't he, and who'd ever have seen that one coming?) brooks no argument, and Sirius accepts the drink almost meekly. His eyes, once bright, still keen, stay trained on Remus as he tries to leave the room.

"I hear you, you know." Probably Sirius's voice is brittle from under-use, but possibly it's that bit harder because he wants something he can't have. Can't ever have again. Because how can he? How can they? It seems, to Remus, a thing of absolute nonsense. They are barely even the same people and it's no one's fault and yet it's the truth.

Despite it all, Remus sighs and stops in the doorframe. "You hear me. I'm sorry I'm not more quiet. I've been used to being alone here, you see, and --"

"Not that," Sirius hisses, and suddenly there is his hand on Remus's arm, too-thin fingers gripping not quite tightly enough. "You. I hear _you_. At night. In bed. Or walking around. You. You don't sleep. I don't think you sleep."

_No. No, I don't sleep. Neither do you, I imagine._ Remus feels his mouth pulling itself into its familiar tight line and wonders when this became his default expression (maybe somewhere around August 1981). It's little wonder he is face is so full of lines, and very few of them from laughter.

He wants to say something, anything, but he isn't quite sure what. Something, maybe, about how this house is too quiet, always _has_ been, especially in the mornings. About how this, fucking _this_ , has been one thing for a very long time and it's not about to become what it used to be just because they're them and together again and right here, right now, right.

Remus allows himself to look at Sirius, properly, to see that he too has aged long before he should have (and who can blame him?), and that even after all this time, he makes Remus's stomach twist slightly and his heart thump just that bit louder. Sirius finally, maddeningly, squeezes Remus's arm, tugging him closer. Remus licks his lips out of anxiety or arousal, he doesn't know which, and Sirius is _right there_ , staring hungrily. He's starving, he needs, and Remus's breathing hitches.


End file.
